


Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

by OomnyDevotchka



Series: Kink Bingo 2012 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Dubious Consent, Infidelity, M/M, References to Child Abuse, References to Drug Use, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OomnyDevotchka/pseuds/OomnyDevotchka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac's been working the street for years, but he never expected one of his old classmates to pick him up.</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/">kink bingo</a> for the prostitution/sex work square</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

**Author's Note:**

> Even though [kink bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) has ended (the new round starts July 1st!) I've decided to finish up my cards from last year. This was written at midnight under the influence of several glasses of wine, so let me know if you find any mistakes!
> 
> Title from "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC, because I'm awful at titles and it's the first thing that came to mind.

            Jackson Whittemore, Isaac decides as he makes his way into the overly expensive hotel room, is just the kind of douchebag who would pick up a prostitute.

            He’s kind of surprised said prostitute is _him_ , though. Given his experiences in high school, when Jackson spent all his time with Lydia Martin (a beautiful, brilliant redhead who was always far too good for Jackson and who, to the best of Isaac’s knowledge, is still married to Jackson), Isaac would have expected Jackson to pick up one of the classier female prostitutes, all leather and fishnets and empty eyes that the johns ignore, so they can sleep at night. Or, at least, he could have picked up Erica, the mousy little thing who whores on the side to keep herself in seizure meds, and who Isaac has established a bit of a friendship with.

            It works out, he and Erica working the same corner, because their targets are so radically different. Erica may be a little shy and sickly, but she’s got killer curves and can work a dangerous smile when she wants to. Isaac, on the other hand, is all tall and angular and boyish, looking far younger than his age. Erica attracts the typical johns, the married men whose wives won’t put out anymore, the old perverts who can’t get a woman to sleep with them without paying, and the frat boys looking for some fun.

            Isaac, on the other hand, gets the closet cases, the guys who will hold him down and whisper _faggot_ at him to distract from the fact that they have their dick in his ass, the wannabe pedophiles.

            That’s why, when a sleek little Porsche had stopped near their corner that night, Isaac had been fully prepared for the guy to proposition Erica. Porsche meant a textbook middle aged married guy, probably stuck at a dead end job and with a bunch of kids he hadn’t really wanted, and Isaac’s got nothing to offer that type of john.

            Isaac had been sealing his own deal, sidling up to some clearly virginal teenager who could barely look at him without stuttering. He always did like having the virgins, because it meant he could be in control, a rarity, for his line of work. He’d just explained his rates to the wide eyed kid (faking a British accent, because hey, he’s a hooker, he has to get his kicks somehow), knocking off ten bucks because the kid clearly couldn’t afford him, but it’s not like he’d take long _anyway_ , when he’d heard a strangely familiar voice call out “Lahey?”

            It was like he was sixteen again in that moment, wearing long sleeved shirts and avoiding talking to anybody, in case they found out about his dad. Jackson had been one of those bullies – rich and well dressed and popular, making everyone else feel inferior with just a little smirk. Really, Isaac should have remembered that fucking Porsche – He’d see Jackson roar away in it, every day after lacrosse practice, while Isaac would walk home (dreading it the whole way, because the only reason awkward, lanky Isaac was on the lacrosse team in the first place was for an excuse to spend more time away from his dad).

            “What are you doing out here, Lahey?” Jackson had asked, after some sick impulse had caused Isaac to abandon his virgin and approach the car (it reminded him of home, of Beacon Hills and high school, of a time where, though it was far from ideal, he had it better than now, before the johns and the smack and the _despair_ ).

            “Foster care didn’t suit me,” Isaac says (the sarcasm only developed after his dad died, when he needed a coping mechanism for getting through the day, and no one would lock him in a cooler for being a little shit). “What are _you_ doing out here, Whittemore?”

            Jackson had stayed silent for a moment, eyes searching Isaac’s face, before he’d, very obviously, unlocked his car. “Get in.”

            Now, Jackson follows him into the hotel room, shedding his jacket as he goes, and Isaac doesn’t really _want_ to sleep with him, but he also doesn’t want to starve to death, so.

            “How do you want me?” he asks. He feels like he should be shedding some clothing too, getting more comfortable, but he doesn’t have a jacket, relies on the sex and the smack to keep him warm.

            Jackson’s eyes roam over Isaac’s face, and his expression looks dangerously close to pity. Pity is one thing Isaac can’t stand, so he elaborates, hoping to distract Jackson. “Stomach? Back? Knees? What?”

            Jackson speaks. “You never told me how much.” His voice sounds dead, guarded, and Isaac wonders if he hadn’t misjudged Jackson, if Jackson isn’t exactly the type of john to pick him. Isaac tells him his rates (if he adds on a little, eyeing Jackson’s Rolex and the gold wedding ring he hasn’t even bothered to take off his finger, no one will ever know) and Jackson ponders for a moment before declaring “I want you to ride me.”

            Isaac nods and doesn’t waste any time in removing his clothes. He can’t help but reflect on the fact that Jackson must have seen him undressing a million times before, albeit not in expectation of sex. Isaac had been clumsy then, his sixteen year old body not used to its long limbs.

            Even back in the locker room, Jackson had possessed the body of a god, and Isaac can’t pretend he’s not ogling a little as Jackson removes his own clothes in time with Isaac. After all, it’s not often he gets a good looking john.

            The controlling dick thing, though, is a little more par for the course, and it’s almost like following a script when Jackson lies down on the bed, gloriously naked, cocking one eyebrow in challenge and giving his hard dick a little stroke.

            Isaac is, if nothing else, fastidious about his own protection, so he remembers to take a condom out of his pocket before shedding his jeans entirely.

            As he walks over to where Jackson is sprawled out, looking for all the world like a Greek God, like he hasn’t changed in the slightest since high school, Isaac can feel his mind dissociating from his body. It’s a coping mechanism, like the smack and the sarcasm, keeps him from focusing on the horror of what he’s really doing.

            Keeps him from focusing on the fact that he’s a hooker who spent several years being abused by his dead father, and who is so deep in debt to his pimp that he’s never getting out alive.

            He rolls the condom over Jackson’s dick, which is, he notes to his satisfaction, a bit on the small side. The condom’s already lubed, and he’s already fucked two other guys tonight, so he doesn’t waste any time in sinking down on Jackson’s dick, not stopping until he’s taken it all.

            If Isaac expected this to be any different from his other tricks, if he’d expected that he and Jackson would have a connection based on their past, he’d be wrong.

            He bounces up and down on Jackson’s dick, adding his own fake and overblown moans and sighs to Jackson’s decidedly real ones. Jackson obviously has experience in sex, and Isaac finds himself wishing that he had gone with the virgin instead, because all he feels is numb and dirty, and if he’d gone with the virgin he’d be done already.

            As it is, he just speeds up his hips, leaning backwards to grip Jackson’s thighs, tips his head back, because he knows that johns sometimes get off to the sight of his stretched neck and hooded eyes.

            Jackson’s no different, and he comes into the condom with a muffled curse after only a few more minutes.

            Isaac climbs off and removes the condom from Jackson, tying it off and tossing it in a trash can absently. He’s hard, because Jackson had been hitting his prostate straight on while they had sex, and he’s only human, but he doesn’t feel like doing anything about it, because all he can think about is how this money that Jackson’s going to give him will buy him his next hit of smack. It’s as though he can already feel the drug running through his veins, making his shitty life a little more bearable, and he can’t even bring himself to care that Jackson has taken him miles away from his corner.

            Jackson seems to have grown some decency in the years since high school, though, because after he catches his breath, dresses again, and counts the bills into Isaac’s outstretched hand, he offers to drive Isaac back.

            High school Isaac would have refused, would have heard his dad’s voice in his head telling him not to be a burden, but prostitute Isaac doesn’t care, just sees Jackson as his ride back to his corner, back to the dealer that’s less than a five minute walk away.

            As Isaac leans his head against the passenger window of Jackson’s Porsche, barely noticing the heavy and almost guilty silence between them, all he can think is that he can’t wait to tell Erica about this.

            He’s pretty sure she’s close to quitting her day job and signing on with his pimp, anyway.


End file.
